I am a vagabondish soul,
lugged about in a knapsack
— of breathful dust;
restless feet beneath it
— plodding,
—– plodding,
——– plodding,
over this cramped space ball,
wanting something
—– bigger,
——– truer,
———– more eternal,
than is here.
It’s a somewhere,
it’s a city,
it’s a Someone living there,
and the soul tramp
—- looks
—– and
——————————— wanders
— aimlessly
and hopes to find.
Do not say that it should settle
In a quiet little space,
For until it finds the city,
It will pace, and pace, and pace;
Up
— and
—– Down
this tiny planet,
until the dusty, fragile knapsack
———– falls
——————————————— apart,
setting the vagabond
————————————————– free.
Krislyn Shank is happily living in inner-city Philly and loves sharing the gospel there.